


Aftermath

by CCBug



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-06-09
Updated: 2011-06-13
Packaged: 2017-10-20 06:51:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CCBug/pseuds/CCBug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Grand Cleric is dead and Lorelai Hawke faces an uncertain future. Betrayed by her lover and labeled his accomplice, her friends scramble to her aid. But when Lorelai begins to sink into oblivion, Sebastian Vael vows to protect her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Beginning at the End

**  
**

**A Beginning at the End**

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**

Aveline sighed heavily, looking up from the mountain of reports she was trying to review before she would finally go home. In the eleven days since the horrific events at the chantry, the defeat of Knight-Commander Meredith, and the elimination of the Circle in Kirkwall, she and her guard had struggled to keep the vast city from simply slipping into complete anarchy.

Matters were, of course, worst in Hightown. The magnitude of the explosion at the chantry had obliterated several blocks in its immediate vicinity, and several dozen homes had been lost. The structural damage could be seen throughout most of Hightown; only places beyond the Market were usable, and even some of those homes were structurally unsound.

After the fighting had ended, after Hawke had sheathed her blades and turned to leave the Gallows and the last of the Templars had fallen in under Knight–Captain Cullen's command, Aveline - as well as the rest of Hawke's devoted group - had scrambled to board a small vessel back to the heart of Kirkwall with her. None in their battle-weary group missed how Hawke deliberately kept her eyes averted from the burning city, how she intensely watched the water splash upon the bow.

Merrill had been the only one to approach Hawke. She had stood next to the rogue, tentatively glancing over her shoulder at the others. The two women were far from being called friends, but the small blood mage had caught the rogue's hand in her own, and it was telling that Hawke hadn't pulled away.

When their ship reached the west docks, no one had made a move to disembark. Aveline recalled their collective silence, their stillness as they waited for their leader – their friend – to do something. It was Fenris who had finally spoken - had begun to ask her what they should do next - but Hawke had interrupted him. Turning around to face them all for the first time since they had left the Gallows, Aveline had been shaken to her core at the pain shining in her friend's green eyes.

"I'm so sorry," Lorelai Hawke had said in a small voice, her eyes not quite meeting any of theirs. "I'm sorry for believing him, for what…for what I've done, for what I _let_ him do…he…I can't…I didn't…" she stammered, struggling for words. It was with heartbreak that they had watched the Champion's face crumple, sobs violently wracking her frame until Sebastian stepped close, his long fingers touching her shoulder.

"Lorelai," he had whispered, his grave brogue betraying his own pain.

"I won't cry," she had said to herself, roughly wiping away her tears and stepping back from the archer's touch. She had looked at each of them and had drawn a heavy breath. "Thank you," she said a moment later, her voice stronger. "Thank you, truly," she repeated and stepped onto the dock, her stride carrying her quickly away.

Varric looked at his friends and then hurried onto the dock. "Sweetheart? Lorelai!" he called after her. Lorelai had paused but did not turn to face them. "What about…what about his body?" he had asked, referring to Anders.

She had squared her shoulders, turning her head slightly to answer. "What about it?" she had replied and then walked away.

Merrill had turned back to the group; her large eyes alight with anxiety. "She'll regret that – leaving him. She's hurting, I know it, but when she's more herself…"

"You mean _if_ she's ever herself," Varric snarled, interrupting the Dalish mage. He pointed up the sloping city skyline toward the smoldering ruins that had once been the magnificent main chantry of Kirkwall. "How in the Maker's ass do you think she's ever going to be herself again? Look at what he's done!"

Eventually it was Fenris who had gone to retrieve the body of Lorelai Hawke's lover. Anders, who had professed his love for Lorelai, and friendship towards the others, had ultimately betrayed everyone in his life. He had been left for dead in Lowtown that fateful day, Lorelai's blade deeply lodged in his back. "I shall see to it. I will rid her of him, once and for all," the warrior had coldly vowed as they all left the docks.

It wasn't until Aveline had seen Varric a few days after that she'd learned Fenris had not been able to locate Anders' body; she reasoned that her vigilant City Guard had cleared it with the rest of the bodies that now burned on the pyres that had been erected in the Bazaar.

Although Isabella had left the city on the night of the battle, the others had tried to return to their lives. A day or so later, Aveline found herself standing at the Hanged Man's entrance, the door loose in its frame. The bartender there, Corff, had hired a few straggling Templars to move the debris that blocked the entrance to the tavern; the Qunari, Maraas, being a surprisingly good director of their efforts.

While Aveline was unsure why she had come to be standing there - for a more reasonable choice would have been to return to her husband, Donnic, and home, to rest after the end of a very long day - she had been very pleased to discover that most of the others had already gathered inside.

Although it was never certain who might be at the tavern at day's end, each had found their way there. It was not something they talked about, but their need to be together was deeply felt, each seeking solace in the bond forged in the preceding events. Merrill and Varric were there each and every night, Fenris, more nights than not; even Sebastian stopped by that first night Aveline had, but Lorelai had not been seen since she left the docks.

Varric had sought out Aveline a few days earlier, the temporary headquarters for her Guard now ironically located within the Blooming Rose. "I'm worried about her," Varric had confided to Aveline. "She won't see me, and Bodhan says she's not left the mansion since she returned last week," he stated, concern showing in his eyes.

"She killed the man she loved, Varric," Aveline had answered. "He used her, took advantage of her and lied almost every step of the way; she's devastated. She just needs some time."

Varric's eyes narrowed. "Bodhan says she hasn't left her mother's room since a few days after the battle. He's says she's barely eating," the dwarf continued, "that all she does is sit in the corner of the veranda off her mother's old room. She's not talking, she's not even responding. I went there – I tried," he had said emphatically. "We've got to do something, Aveline. Even Bethany says she has never seen her like this."

After Varric left, Aveline had spent the rest of her day distracted by his concerns. As soon as she could, she had gone to Lorelai and found that Varric, for once, had not been exaggerating. Lorelai had not acknowledged Aveline, and, despite her efforts to get her dear friend to respond, eventually the two had sat in silence, Aveline gently kissing her friend's cold and dirty cheek in farewell once evening came.

Tonight, Aveline intended to try again.

A knock sounded at her office door and Aveline called "Enter!" looking up in surprise to see that her visitor was Sebastian Vael. The blue-eyed Prince of Starkhaven approached the desk Aveline sat behind and offered a small smile.

"Aveline, a pleasure to see you," he said.

"And you as well, Sebastian," she answered. "I looked for you while on patrol the other day, down in Lowtown where the chantry has relocated," she said. "I would have thought to see you there. Where have you been keeping yourself?" she inquired as she gestured for him to take one of the vacant seats before her.

Sebastian sat and leaned forward, his eyes finding hers as he replied. "As you know, I went straight to the chantry from the docks," he began. "Of course, nothing was there," he said softly, clearing his throat. "To answer your question, I've been aiding with the wounded, working for Mother Clara to look after all we can," he explained. "I've also been doing a lot of thinking," he continued, "which is why I'm here. I've decided that the best thing I can do to serve the Maker, to honor Elthina, is to return to Starkhaven."

Aveline sat back in her chair. "I…really? I have to admit I am more than a little shocked," she replied. "I know I've made my fair share of comments about your nobility, about your responsibilities to your people there," she explained, "but I thought you told Hawke you were staying in the Chantry," she finished.

Sebastian looked down at his hands before glancing up at her again. "I know what I told Hawke," he said. "But I also now know that the Chantry is not fully the Maker's any longer," he explained. "There are significant political forces at play, forces of which I am ashamed to admit I chose to not see before."

"So you walk away?" Aveline asked flatly.

Sebastian's blue eyes flashed with anger. "I am hardly _walking_ away, Captain," he said stiffly. "War is coming, and despite the battle cries we've all heard, this is not a holy one. The Maker would have us pursue accord, not bloodshed," he reasoned. "I know for a fact that the Grand Cleric did not want to see the Divine march her forces against Kirkwall; she wanted the mages to be treated with dignity and respect. I cannot remain," he stated.

She watched him for a moment. "Why not?" she asked gently.

"I will only become a weapon," he answered. "If I remain I will be asked to use my skills in battle; that is not acceptable to me. There is no honor in murdering mages," he said. "I know the Circle can work, I believe that Andraste's purpose was a just and good one. But this is not going to be about Andraste – or justice – this is about power; power on a scale that I can only marvel at."

"And so you are taking the only way out you see, is that it?" she asked, trying to goad the reluctant Prince into revealing his intent.

"Why is it that no matter what I say, you must twist my words, woman?" he snapped. "Of course that's not it! I cannot serve the Maker by slaughtering in his name! But I can return to my home and ensure that the people of Starkhaven are prepared for whatever is coming," he finished.

Aveline smiled slowly and nodded. "Yes, that you can, indeed, Your Highness," she said.

Understanding registered in Sebastian's eyes and he arched an eyebrow. "Is that what all your nasty little barbs have been about all of these years?" he asked incredulously. Aveline only chuckled in response.

Sebastian stood up from his chair and bowed. "I intend to leave within the next few weeks," he informed her. "I will stay as long as I can reasonably do so, to help the Mother and sisters," he explained. "It will take a bit of time to make all the necessary arrangements anyway. There are many favors owed to my family, and I will have to call in each of them if I have any hope of success," he explained.

"I expect it won't be easy, taking back your home," Aveline agreed. "But I am very glad you have made this choice, Sebastian. I have always thought you would make a remarkable ruler," she confessed.

He inclined his head. "I can't say I entirely agree, but it does me good to know you feel that way," he replied and turned to leave. "Thank you."

Watching him go, a thought occurred to her. "Sebastian?" she called, stopping him. The handsome man turned back to face her and waited for her to continue. "Ah, I have a favor to ask of you," she said.

"What do you need?" he asked.

"Have you heard about Lorelai?" she began. "I mean, have you run into Varric?"

His eyes lit with an emotion Aveline could not quite name, but he quickly hid it. "Is she alright?" he asked casually.

Aveline came around the front of her desk and rested her hip against the front of it. "She's in a bad way, Sebastian," she whispered.

"We are all in a bad way," he answered harshly. "What _he_ did…" he began and then stopped, screwing his eyes shut before opening them and looking at Aveline. "What he did was beyond comprehension," he stated.

Aveline nodded sadly. "I know, Sebastian, and I'm sorry for all that you lost," she said. "But what Anders did to Lorelai…" she paused, and turned, her agitation forcing her to move. "You and I both know he used her," she fumed as she paced back and forth. "Used her for protection, used her faith in him to insulate himself, to commit his murders!" she said, her voice rising with her anger.

Sebastian did not readily reply, but his frown deepened. "I'm sure her pain is great," he finally admitted quietly.

"I was hoping you would go see her, try to talk to her. I know you care for her, that she counts the two of you as friends," she explained, and, seeing the uncomfortable look on his face, changed her tactic. "I went to see her myself. She didn't say a word; she didn't even look at me. It's been almost two weeks!"

He shook his head and turned to go. Placing his hand on the door knob, he paused, and looked back at Aveline. "Why are you telling me this? Surely it's Bethany you should be speaking with. I can do nothing for her, other than pray for her, and I assure you, I already do," he said. "Lorelai is a good and kind woman, and yes, I will admit that I care for her a great deal, but it's not my place to see to her," he said, his eyes not quite reaching Aveline's.

"You're one of her closest friends, Sebastian, she trusts you and…" Aveline began but the tall rogue interrupted.

"I warned her he was up to something," he said, his eyes now boring intensely into her own. "I asked her, Aveline, I asked her _so many times_ if he could truly be trusted – I asked her if he had ever told her what he was really doing in the chantry that day," he continued, his voice turning hard. "But no, oh no, he could do no wrong!"

He fell silent, and shifted his stance, drawing a ragged breath. "I know she did not directly aid Anders, but…" he paused again, rubbing his hands over his face and through his loose hair. "But the brutal facts are that he would _never_ have succeeded in his plot if she had simply asked him what he was doing!"

Aveline said nothing for a moment, but moved so she was within arm's reach of Sebastian. She rested her strong hand on his broad shoulder, the contact settling him. "If you think for one second that she doesn't hold herself wholly responsible, well, then you don't know her as well as I thought," she said, not surprised to see his eyes narrow in anger at her barb. "Of all of us, you're the only one who lost what she did; you might be able to reach her."

"What are you talking about? Anders was no friend of mine!" he snapped.

"No, but you both lost someone you loved," she reminded him.

Sebastian looked at Aveline for a long time, his features hardened by her words.

"Look, I only wanted you to know what was happening," Aveline reasoned in a conciliatory tone, unsure if she had harmed her cause with him. "The fact is, the entire city knows it was Anders who did all this, yet most are laying it at her feet," she continued. "With the arrival of more Templars, Bethany was forced to flee. Rightly or wrongly, Sebastian, we are all she has now, and from what Bodhan is telling us, she's in real trouble."

He raised his chin, looking up at the ceiling. With a huff, he turned on his heel and pulled open the captain's door. "I'll go, Aveline," he agreed and closed the door behind him.

Aveline stared at the back of the door, nodding slowly to herself. "Good," she murmured and turned back to finish her reports.

 **  
**

**xXx**

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**

When Sebastian arrived at the Hawke Estate, he was still angry at Aveline's request of him, still unsettled by the intensity of his emotions. The loss of the Grand Cleric had been an excruciating blow to him, more so than the loss of his own family seven years ago.

Elthina had been a nurturing and loving force in his life; in truth she had been a mother to him. To have someone who was so giving and gentle - someone who clearly resonated the ideals of a true holy leader - snatched from them all, left Sebastian feeling unanchored and adrift. He was hardly in a place where he could help someone else, regardless of his stubbornly unacknowledged feelings for her, and especially because of her role in the devastation in his life.

Bodhan had greeted him warmly; urging Sebastian to mind his step as he escorted him past a temporary piling that was shoring up the eastern exterior wall, and inquiring after Sebastian's health. Yet the dwarf's hushed tone and wringing hands betrayed of his worry.

"I'm very glad you're here, Your Highness," he had said brightly. "It's times like these that you find out who your true friends are! As you can see, the place is in fairly good shape, but uh, well, we've been having all sorts of troubles," the self-appointed manservant admitted as he carefully tucked Sebastian's quiver and bow away. He gestured for Sebastian to hand over his cloak and respectfully draped the heavy fabric across a high-backed chair.

"What sort of 'troubles' Bodhan?" he asked the older man. Sandal enthusiastically waved at Sebastian as Bodhan led him into the main hall of the home; Sebastian returned the greeting, and then knelt to pet Lorelai's Mabari hound.

Bodhan smiled kindly at Sandal and lowered his voice. "Rubbish thrown at the doors and windows, hooligans and such; we had a group of thugs try to break in," he explained. Sebastian's eyes narrowed at that information and Bodhan raised his hand to stay the archer's reply. "No harm done, ser, none at all. Aveline's men were here in no time," he stated. "It's not that kind of thing that has me worried. It's the letters, the notes; people are mighty angry at what was done and our lady is the target of their ire."

"She did not know what Anders was planning," Sebastian argued, to his own surprise. "How can the people think she would defend them from the Qunari only to allow this?" he demanded.

Bodhan shook his head. "Oh, you don't have to convince me, ser," he answered. "But it's clear that many in Kirkwall do not agree," the dwarf stated. "It's a terrible thing, what he did to the chantry, to the Grand Cleric – to her," he continued. "I knew he was brash and outspoken," the dwarf elaborated, referring to Anders. "But from what I saw here, he doted on her; he was attentive and affectionate. I thought he loved her a great deal," he said with a sigh.

Bodhan led Sebastian to the foot of the staircase. "I wouldn't be so concerned about things," he said, returning to the original subject, "except that the Champion is in no condition to look after herself, and while I had my fair share of tussles in my youth, I am hardly able to defend against a mob."

"A mob?" Sebastian repeated, his eyes darting around the home. "Bodhan, send word to Fenris and Varric, ask them to come; we will take a look around the house, see what can be done to make it more secure," he ordered as he began walking up the stairs to the second floor. "Where is she?"

"She's in her mother's room, ser," Bodhan had answered as he hurried to follow the archer up the steps.

"Her mother's room? I thought she had closed it up after Leandra's murder?" Sebastian asked, pausing to look down at the dwarf.

"You're quite correct; she did. Lorelai moved into there a few days after the fighting in the city ended; she went in and hasn't been out since. She won't talk to me," Bodhan continued, "nor anyone else. But I reasoned that given the choice between being in her mother's room or in _theirs_ ," he said pointedly, "that her mother's seemed a better place to be. Can't say I blame her," he finished and resumed escorting Sebastian to Leandra's room.

The dwarf knocked sharply on the ornately-carved wood and did not wait for a reply, but instead, walked into the darkened outer room of the suite. "Lorelai? You've a visitor! His Highness Prince Vael has arrived and wishes to say hello. Lorelai?" he called.

After a moment's hesitation, Sebastian followed the man into the suite, stopping in the outer room as Bodhan ventured further in. The first thing Sebastian noticed was, that despite Bodhan's statement that Lorelai hadn't left the suite since she entered, the room appeared unused.

Bodhan returned to the outer room, the braids in his beard swaying subtly as he shook his head sadly. "She's out on the veranda, ser," he said quietly, his voice cracking with emotion. "See if you can't do something, please, ser; she's but a ghost of herself. I have never seen her in such a state," he pleaded as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Sebastian turned to look up the short hallway that Bodhan had taken when looking for Lorelai and followed it. It opened into a small but beautifully appointed bedroom, the immaculately made bed on a delicate stand. The room was decorated tastefully, with many feminine touches throughout, and he spotted a set of double glass doors flanked by billowing silk curtains, leading to Lorelai.

He stepped out on to the veranda of Leandra Hawke's bedroom. He had only been in the Hawke estate a few times before today, and, while he had seen the gardens of the inner courtyard from the ground floor, the small balcony offered a whole new perspective of the area. It was beautiful; the sun washed over the flowerbeds, and the small graveled paths laid out an intricate pattern that was not discernable from below. His limited experiences with Lorelai's mother gave him a feeling that this veranda had been a favorite place of the deceased matriarch's. Looking to his right, his blue eyes widened with surprise as they rested on the small woman tucked into the corner of the area.

"Lorelai?" Sebastian said, his voice filled with worry. She was tucked into a tight ball, her back flush to the wall, her bare toes peeking out from beneath the hem of her nightgown. Her normally glossy chestnut hair was matted and greasy, and her chin rested on her knees.

"Lorelai, what are you doing?" he asked as he crouched down in front of her. His warm hand ran down her face, cupping her chin, but she didn't look at him. The vibrant, teasing woman he knew felt like ice, and it was obvious she hadn't bathed – she looked half-dead. "Was this Anders? What did he do to you, lass?" he whispered, his long finger running across her cheekbone. "This cannot continue, Lorelai - you've got everyone worried about you," he said softly. In a swift motion he stood and returned to the bed, pulling a finely-woven coverlet from its end. He strode through the room and opened the door to the hall, calling for Orana.

"Send up hot water, Lorelai will be getting a bath. Also, tell Bodhan to send for Merrill," he ordered the skittish former slave. With a quick bob, the elf was off, and Sebastian returned to the room. A moment later he stepped back out onto the veranda and again crouched in front of Lorelai, wrapping her into the coverlet he had taken from the bed.

"Lorelai, look at me," Sebastian commanded, his voice firm. "Lorelai, this is madness! Answer me," he bade her, again cupping her chin and turning her to face him. Her eyes were lifeless and did not alter from their focus on the garden.

Bodhan appeared in the doorway of the veranda. "Ser? You want me to send someone to get the elven mage? Did I understand Orana correctly?"

Sebastian looked up from his position in front of Lorelai. "I do. I want her to see Lorelai; she seems almost catatonic, and I worry that this is some kind of magic," he stated.

"Magic? But how? I thought Anders was dead?" Bodhan replied, his eyes wide with shock.

"I think it's wise to not underestimate what the man was capable of," Sebastian answered. "You said you hadn't seen her like this before," he queried. "Does that include her mother's death?"

"Yes, ser. She mourned, was heartbroken really, but even during those dark times, it was nothing like this," Bodhan said.

"For all we know Anders was a blood mage, or he left some sort of booby-trap for her here," Sebastian reasoned. "I have no idea, I don't know of such _things_ ," he growled as his eyes left Lorelai to focus on Bodhan. "What I do know is she was alert when I last saw her. Lorelai was upset, yes, but she was talking, thinking - by the Maker, she was here!" he rasped, his looking back to Lorelai. "This…this is not right," he whispered as he tucked the fabric more firmly around Lorelai's shoulders.

Bodhan said no more and hurried to do Sebastian's bidding.

It took the better part of an hour for Orana to direct Sandal on where to place the bathing tub, while she began lugging up buckets of steaming water. Once the tub was in place and the linens laid out beside it, Sandal too aided in the transport of the water. Sebastian sat with Lorelai whilst all the work was done, talking to her quietly, telling her what he had planned for Starkhaven, asking her opinion on various potential allies and enemies. With a heavy weight building inside his chest, he watched carefully for any sign of response from her, his distress growing with each lethargic blink of her eyes.

"Your Highness," called a soft voice, and Sebastian turned to see that Orana was standing at the threshold of the double doors. "Everything is ready for her, ser," she advised him.

Sebastian nodded his acknowledgement and turned back to Lorelai. "Lass, it's time to get cleaned up, to get dressed," he informed her. "Come now, before the water grows cold," he ordered gently.

"Ser, If you can lift her into the bath I will wash her," the small elf said. "I may need your help in getting her back out, though," she pondered with a slight frown.

"It would be inappropriate for me to see her unclothed," Sebastian replied.

"I can help you, Orana," said Merrill as she stepped onto the veranda. "I came as soon as I got your request Sebastian," she said with a bright smile. "Bodhan said you had some worries about Lorelai and magic?" she asked as her eyes settled on the blanket-covered woman in the corner. "Oh Creators, is she all right?"

"This is why I wanted you to come," Sebastian said, stepping out of Merrill's way as the mage settled down next to Lorelai.

"Lorelai?" Merrill said, snapping her fingers. "Oh my," whispered the blood mage when Lorelai didn't respond. "You suspect something magical has her like this?" she asked Sebastian, as she intensely watched the other woman. She lifted Lorelai's hands, checking each fingernail, and then leaned forward to grasp Lorelai's face in the palms of her hands. Slowly, she turned the rogue's face, scrutinizing the silent woman's eyes, before touching her lips.

Merrill popped back up on to her feet and stood back on her heels. "I'm not seeing anything to indicate this is magic, not a poison either," she announced. "I don't sense any magic, but I will stay with Orana and help get Lorelai cleaned up; it will give me more time to watch her. All right?" she asked.

Sebastian nodded.

"She's a good two stone heavier than I, you know, so be a help, won't you? Gather her up and bring her in," Merrill ordered as she breezed past him and entered the bedroom once more.

Sebastian watched the mage depart and carefully lifted Lorelai's light weight into his arms. She was stiff for a moment but to his great surprise she suddenly wrapped her arms around his neck. "Lorelai?" he asked urgently, his heart pounding. "Lass, can you hear me?"

"I can't do it, Sebastian," she whispered against his neck.

Immediately he sat down on a veranda chair, gathering her to him and turning her in his lap to face him. "Tell me, Lorelai," he begged. "What can't you do?"

She slowly brought her green eyes to his and her chin began to quiver. "I can't drink the tea," she answered as tears spilled onto her cheeks. "I should, but I can't!"

Sebastian heard a gasp and looked up to see Merrill standing in the doorway, watching them.

"What tea?" he asked Lorelai, his confusion obvious. "I don't understand, Lorelai," he told her.

Merrill darted around to the front of them, kneeling by Lorelai, her hands flat out toward them and frantically running up and down the rogue. Sebastian's heart lurched as he felt Lorelai begin to tremble in his arms, and he cradled her more closely.

"Oh no, no, no," Merrill muttered. "Oh no," she repeated as her hands went still.

"What in the Maker's holy name is happening?" Sebastian demanded, unsure of what to do, his frustration growing at Merrill's obvious panic, but the elf remained silent. "Merrill!"

Merrill's eyes met Sebastian's. "She's pregnant."

Sebastian looked down at the friend in his arms and wrapped her more tightly to him, his mind screaming against Merrill's words. "Maker have mercy," he prayed as Lorelai Hawke sobbed in his arms.

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**A massive 'Thank You', as always to Lisa for her beta and her enthusiasm; I greatly appreciate all that you do.**   
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**Thank You for reading!**   
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	2. My Love, My Life

**My Love, My Life**

Fenris paced back and forth by the fireplace, his hands clenched into tight fists. Varric was seated by Lorelai's writing desk, dumbstruck by Sebastian's news. The Prince had left Leandra's rooms after giving Lorelai over to the care of the two elves, and had returned to the main hall, waiting there until Fenris and Varric had answered his summons.

"Merrill is sure?" the dwarf asked Sebastian.

He nodded sadly, and folded his arms across his broad chest. "Yes, she is certain," he replied. "She wants a healer to come, to give some idea of how far along she is," he continued, "but there is no doubt that Lorelai is carrying Anders' child."

"She should drink the damned tea," Varric muttered under his breath, referring to the herbal concoction that a woman could drink to induce miscarriage.

"You cannot ask her to take the life of an innocent child, dwarf," Sebastian replied hotly.

"Innocent child?" Fenris snarled. "It's the byproduct of a coupling with an abomination! It should be destroyed before it can grow!"

Sebastian glared at Fenris. "Lorelai will make that decision, elf," he said flatly. "And I will not allow anyone to push her into something she doesn't want to do!"

"You would protect it?" Fenris demanded, charging toward the archer. "Are you not a man of faith? Does your Maker not abhor demons? Does Andraste not require the control of mages? Fear them?" he snapped. "Yet you would defend the life of whatever that _thing_ is that grows in Lorelai's belly?" he seethed.

"I would protect _her_!" Sebastian answered in a steely tone, looking down at the man who was standing toe-to-toe with him but refused to be intimidated, and leaned forward as he spoke again. "I will tell you what I told Anders – I will not see her harmed by another's ideas and desires. _She_ will make this choice!" he barked.

"Should I call in my Guard?"

"Ah, Aveline," Varric called in reply to the question. "As always, your timing is impeccable."

The tall, red-headed woman entered the main hall still dressed in her uniform plate. "Hello fellows," she continued. "What seems to be the trouble here?"

"Nothing too important," Varric replied, approaching the two men who were still squared off in the center of the main hall. Aveline approached from the other side and waited for Varric to continue, never taking her eyes off Sebastian and Fenris.

"It seems Anders left our Lorelai with a parting gift – his baby," Varric explained. "And these two don't quite agree on how this situation should be dealt with," he said.

Aveline's eyes snapped to Varric, her ready-to-fight posture relaxing as shock registered on her features. "What?" she asked.

"She is with child," Sebastian clarified softly, his eyes still locked with an angry Fenris'.

"She is _infected_!" Fenris countered.

"I'm telling you elf, I will not let you speak such things about Lorelai!" Sebastian snapped, pointing his finger at Fenris' face. Aveline grabbed Sebastian's wrist as Fenris pushed forward.

"Stop this! Stop this right now!" Aveline ordered as she shoved herself between the two men. Varric went back-to-back with the captain and placed his hands against Fenris' shoulders while Aveline took the same stance with Sebastian. "You are friends, gentlemen!" she barked. "You shall remember that!"

Sebastian shrugged his shoulders, pushing Aveline's hands off of them as he continued to glare at Fenris.

"Come on, elf, settle down," Varric said calmly. "No point in adding 'choir boy' to the list of people whose hearts you've melted; it'll only piss Lorelai off later," he teased half-heartedly.

Aveline turned to face Varric as Sebastian began to pace, the tension between him and Fenris still crackling between them. "Is that what's been going on with her?" Aveline asked the men. "She's pregnant?"

Varric nodded. "Yes, and apparently she's going to keep it," he explained.

"Nothing has been decided yet, dwarf," Fenris argued.

"What I'm trying to understand is how any of you think it's your place to even be discussing this," Aveline stated, glaring at each man, one-by-one. "Lorelai is hardly some naïve girl fresh from her family home. She's a…"

"She's a wreck, Aveline," Sebastian interrupted. "When she finally spoke to me, she was trembling so violently, I could barely hold her close enough! I worry that this is too much for her," he said, his concern apparent in his features and tone.

"All the more reason for the two of you not to be fighting in her hall like children in the chantry yard," Aveline scolded gently. "Anders is dead and gone, but this is her home. She's not alone - not at all," she continued. "We will get her through this."

"And what of the great and loving people of Kirkwall?" Fenris asked in a venomous tone. "What do you suppose they shall do when they see the crazed apostate's rumored accomplice swollen with his bastard? Do you suppose the Kirkwallers who now mourn their dead - who quake in their terror of the unrestrained apostates in their streets - will arrive in forgiving and understanding mob form?" he queried sarcastically. "Perhaps instead of pitchforks and scythes, they shall arrive with nappies and swaddle clothes instead?"

Aveline's eyes narrowed at Fenris' words. "The people of Kirkwall are good people - they haven't forgotten that Hawke saved them all from the Qunari," she replied. "They will not believe that Lorelai participated in Anders' plans."

"No, sorry Aveline, but there you're wrong," Varric said. "There are dozens of different rumors or theories as to how Anders succeeded so perfectly. Some are pretty close to the mark; some are downright insane, but every single one that I've heard all point the finger squarely at Lorelai. Regardless of what she does about _this_ ," the merchant sighed and then continued, "it's not safe for her in Kirkwall."

Sebastian's pacing ceased for a moment and he turned to the group. "She should leave," he announced.

"And go where?" Aveline asked. "Bethany is on the run, and will be for quite some time. Lorelai's family all hailed from Kirkwall, and I've never heard her mention any one she's close to back in Ferelden," she ruminated.

Sebastian however, was no longer listening; his handsome features hardened as he focused intensely on the flames dancing within the hearth.

Merrill appeared at the balcony overlooking the main hall. "Sebastian? We've gotten Lorelai all freshened and changed, but she's asking for…Aveline?" the mage said, interrupting herself as her eyes centered onto the woman below. "Oh, perfect! Never mind, Sebastian. Aveline? Lorelai was asking after you," she explained. "I'm going off to find Na'salla in the alienage; she's delivered most of the babes there, and I think she'll help and be discreet," she finished as she descended the stairs.

"So Lorelai has seen reason, then," Fenris assumed.

"About?" Merrill asked as she wrapped herself in her cape.

"This…this _problem_ ," Fenris said, showing great restraint and glancing pointedly at Sebastian.

"If you're asking me if I'm off to fetch someone here to rid her of it," Merrill said as she adjusted her sash, "then, no, I'm not. I'm going to get a midwife, someone who can at least tell Lorelai what's what," the elf finished as she looked back up at the group of friends. "Aveline, you should go on in. Sebastian," Merrill said as she turned to leave the house. "I don't know what you said to her, but well done. She's still a bit of a mess, but at least she's lucid. No blood magic – just pure and simple shock," she finished and breezed out of the room, departing for the alienage.

Aveline clapped Sebastian on the shoulder. "Thank the Maker you came, Sebastian! I knew you could get through to her," she commended before mounting the steps and disappearing through the door into Leandra's room.

Alone once more, the men were silent, each deep into their own thoughts and concerns.

"Come, night falls and we should prepare the property," Fenris finally announced.

"Yeah," Varric answered. "Just in case that forgiving mob drops by," he grumbled as he turned to follow the other two men outside.

**xXx**

The silence was distracting.

Over the last two days, what Anders could not escape was the absolute solitude of his own mind. He'd forgotten, over the years since he had opened himself to Justice as host, what it was like to be truly alone. It kept him awake, now.

Whenever all had been quiet around him, or whenever he had been alone, was when Justice had been the loudest, the clearest; the spirit's feelings and thoughts consuming Anders' mind. He thought he had grown used to it over time, but now, alone once more, he realized that he hadn't; he'd simply become exhausted and worn down by it. He hadn't grown accustomed – he'd grown numb – and who he had once been had buckled under the strength of Justice's will.

Justice had departed Anders' body as his life had ebbed away, and the spirit had made the desperate decision to abandon its dying host to inhabit the nearest viable vessel – an unconscious Templar, who had fallen near to where Anders was slowly bleeding to death. Anders' eyes had remained desperately focused on the new host as the Templar's body twitched violently before going still once more. He had then seen Justice slowly rise to his feet in his new body, and, crouching down beside him, the familiar voice came from a stranger's lips, vowing to continue their war against oppression before disappearing into the fray.

It had been his last coherent memory for a week.

When he awoke next, it was not in the Fade as he had anticipated, but in his own body. He recalled hearing voices that were hushed and urgent. After a few minutes he could open his eyes, but he saw very little, for either the room had been too dark or his eyes were too weak. Eventually, someone had noticed his minute movements and arrived at his side, telling him to rest, to be still.

"You rest there, mage, you're safe for now," a man's voice had assured him. He had slipped back into unconsciousness and did not hear anything more for another few days.

When he awoke for the second time, it was because he was being shaken violently, the same previously kind and calm voice whispering loudly against his ear. "Wake up, you! There's Templars coming!" the man had said frantically, the panic in his voice near terror. "I know you lost a lot of blood, but, by the Maker, get moving if you don't want to lose what little you've still got!"

So he'd tried to get to his feet, he'd tried to move his body. His eyesight was still blurred as he'd stumbled along behind those who he hoped he could trust, and he had soon recognized that he was in the heart of the abandoned mining tunnels beneath Darktown. Eventually, the people he had followed so blindly, stopped and huddled into an alley as a patrol of Templars passed. Once the all-clear was given, those with him dispersed, and he once again found himself alone, exhausted and completely disoriented.

He had slid slowly down the alley wall, hiding himself behind a few rotting crates, as he tried to understand what was happening, how he had come to be in Darktown instead of being dead. He remembered Justice leaving him, he remembered the horrible burning and pain from the knife lodged against his spine, he remembered praying that Lorelai would someday forgive him, that she would be able to move on. After that, his memory was a blank.

A few hours passed before a woman approached him, and Anders was by now too tired to try to flee. Hesitantly, she had reached out and touched his face, and he had struggled to meet her eyes.

"I _told_ Miriam it was you," the woman had said softly, sighing as she brushed Anders' blond hair out of his eyes. "Listen here, you're a wanted man – I can't hide you, I won't risk my children. But I do have a few health potions here," she said, as she had lifted his chin. "Open up, open," she had urged and Anders had complied, allowing her to pour the potion into his mouth. "I saw you crouched here, after them Templars passed, and I was certain it was you," she'd told him. The potion began to take effect; his strength had grown and he slowly stood up.

"Thank you, dear lady," Anders had rasped. "I was injured - almost dead - during the fighting, and this is the first time I've moved since then. I… I cannot keep your other potions, they are too dear, especially now," he told her. "I can heal myself," he finished.

"You healed my third boy four years ago, free of charge," she had said. "He's dearer to me than these potions; we'll get more, Maker willing. Now, I've repaid you for your kindness and you're getting away from here," she urged as she began to leave the alleyway. "I hope they're lying about what you done, mage," she said over her shoulder. "Now get far from here, I won't have you drawing the Guard or them nasty Templar buggers down here – innocent people will end up getting hurt."

"Wait!" he had called to her. "Please, lady, how long has it been since the chantry was destroyed?" he asked.

She had narrowed her eyes at him, and then counted on her hands. "Nine days, it's been nine days. The Circle's gone, Knight-Commander Meredith is dead, and the talk is that you and the Champion are to blame for all of this," she'd said. When he had tried to defend Lorelai, the woman had held up her hand. "Don't bother! I don't count and I don't really care," she'd said quickly. "Now, I done my good deed – get gone!" she'd ordered, and disappeared.

It was still difficult for Anders to fully recall what had occurred during the last few weeks. He realized now that Justice had exerted a great deal more control over him than he had known. Without the spirit occupying his thoughts and feelings, Anders could identify more and more times and events when he didn't have a clear memory of what he had said, or of what he had done.

But comprehending that not all of his choices had been made exclusively by him did not relieve him of his burden of self-loathing, guilt, and anger. It did not change his intense desire to end the abuse of his fellow mages; it did not alter his wish to see his brethren freed from the ignorance and fear of others.

It did not ease the sick aching pit that clenched his belly when his mind's eye recalled the look on his beloved's face, as the chantry had disintegrated into dust.

Now, two days after he had slunk out of Darktown, he found himself at the base of the tunnel that led to the hidden entrance to Lorelai's home, clutching the key to the secret doors that separated her from him in his hand, but his courage continued to fail him.

He paced slowly, planning what he would say to her, trying with each carefully-chosen word to envision a scenario where she wouldn't look at him with heartbreak and horror in her eyes. His mind clamored to craft whatever argument would be needed to convince her that he was no monster. He had known he would lose her to the course of action he had chosen; he had known she was too good to understand why he had made the choices he had. But as he entered and walked the tunnel, as he stared at the door leading to her, his heart was desperate for a different time - a time before he had lied and betrayed her faith in him; a time when she had loved him.

It had been several hours since he had entered the tunnels that had led him to his home with Lorelai, and the watch had called the hour as ten o'clock when he had departed Lowtown. The middle of the night was when Anders had usually arrived after a long day in his clinic, or after clandestine meetings planning the safe passage of escaping apostates, and he knew the house would be silent, and all within well-settled. Bodhan and the other staff would have retired hours ago, and his Lorelai would be tucked into their bed awaiting his return. He wished to the center of his soul that tonight could be no different.

With a stilted sigh he approached the door and quietly inserted the key, rolling the tumblers slowly as the lock released, granting him entrance to the cellar and the dust-covered stairway that led to Lorelai's room.

When she had discovered the tunnel, it had been in an effort to secure the abandoned entrance she and Bethany had used to reclaim their grandfather's will. They had both been delighted to realize that there was a second entrance, one that led out only one hundred yards from where his clinic was located. She had hired a thief she knew to install a set of custom locks on each of the doors to the tunnel, paying him handsomely to install and test them. She had then presented Anders with the one and only key. It was his, she had said, and his alone. He could choose what he wanted to do, she had announced; she never wanted him to feel caged.

He had used it every night since.

Quietly, he climbed the narrow staircase and arrived in the back of the closet that concealed the entrance. Gingerly, he stepped through and opened the gilt-covered door into her main room, stopping short as the moonlight revealed that Lorelai was not in their bed.

 _Where is she?_ he wondered frantically as he made his way to the door of the bedroom and crept into the outer hall. Slowly, he made his way to the balcony that overlooked the main hall, and he saw that Sebastian and Fenris were camped out by the fireplace, their weapons not far from them. His heart hammered as he considered that they may just be waiting for him.

He shook his head, resolute to find Lorelai; the rest of Kirkwall be damned, he had to see her.

Crossing the upper hall he saw a flickering glow coming from under Leandra's closed door. His stomach lurched as he realized that Lorelai may have moved from their bedroom to her mother's, and, if so, it would mark the first time Lorelai had entered it since Leandra's magically-animated corpse had been discovered a few years earlier.

He turned the knob and slipped inside, locking the door quietly behind him.

She was there, in her mother's bed, her silky hair splayed across the pillow as she slept on her side. The sheets were tangled and kicked aside, and, as his aching heart drank in the sight of her, she hiccupped softly.

Anders lowered his satchel and shrugged off his coat before crossing the thick carpet to where she slept.

In the flickering firelight, he could see the tearstains on her sloping cheekbone, he could see her swollen lips and the reddened tip of her nose, and he grimaced, knowing she had cried herself to sleep. Watching the shadows dance across her beautiful face, his determination to speak to her died; he would not cause her any more grief. He understood then that his desire to see her had been a selfish one. She thought him dead, had intended for him to be so – he would not take that closure from her.

He turned to go.

"Anders, please," she moaned softly and he whirled around, expecting her clover-green eyes to meet his, only to see that she was still deep in the Fade.

A sob escaped her rosy lips. "Please forgive me," she whimpered.

It was instinct that had him tugging off his robes and boots. He could not deny his need to hold her, to comfort her, any more than he could deny his need to draw breath. How many times had he climbed into their bed in the middle of the night and pulled her into his arms, folded her against his chest? Lying beside her, he drew her to him, and her sleeping form wrapped around him, the tip of her nose against his chin, her palm open against his shoulder, and her leg across his belly.

Her whispered pleas ceased and she settled into sleep.

As he held her, he realized that of everything in the years since his decision to host Justice, the private times with Lorelai - holding her, talking with her, making love to her - were the only memories that held no hint of the spirit. It had just been Anders and Lorelai, and she had loved him.

He had thrown it all away.

A sob burst from him, and she shifted in her sleep. Anders made a desperate effort to control the pain that was gripping his shattered heart. _How could I have done this to her?_ his mind cried out in agony. _To us?_

He felt her fingers caress his chin, her thumb graze across his lower lip. "Shhh…" she murmured. "It's alright," she crooned in an almost inaudible mumble. She was still asleep but he gently held her fingers to his lips and kissed them. Her lips moved across the bottom of his chin and her hips shifted slightly against his side.

They had made love like this dozens of times, his activities keeping him away until late. He would stroke and kiss her, tasting her and teasing her until she writhed beneath his touches. Sometimes she never fully woke, but her body did, and he knew she would welcome him.

In an act of desperation his mouth caught her upturned one, and he kissed her with all of the remorse, passion, and heartbreak that coursed through his being.

He tasted her; the sweetness of her undemanding mouth, his fingers running across her delicate jaw line, and into her thick, soft hair. He would memorize every texture, every curve, every sigh and moan of this woman he loved so wholly.

This woman he had tossed away.

He reveled in her shifting body, in her inherent desire for his touch. She sighed softly in pleasure as he ran his hand down her middle, and cupped her breast from underneath. He closed his eyes and felt her nipple harden under his tender touch, relishing the impossibly soft feel of the petal-smooth areola under the firm peak. He cradled her hips, lifting her bottom to press her more fully to his aching need.

Tenderly, she ran feathered touches all over him, her mouth meeting his gentle kisses with her own. He wrapped his arms around her waist and carefully rolled her onto her back, settling between her readily open thighs, but guarding against putting too much weight onto her. For a moment her lush eyelashes fluttered and he anxiously awaited her recognition, full of both hope and dread.

A loving smile drew languidly at her mouth, and he knew then that she thought she was dreaming of him. "I love you, Lorelai," he confessed softly. "I will always love you," he whispered against her lips.

"Always," she answered him, stroking his blond hair as she lifted her hips, her body inviting his to take her.

"You amaze me, love," he whispered, their roaming caresses building the fire within them both. His skin flushed at her grazing fingertips, and he was completely lost in the sensations of her arousal and of her love for him.

As she succumbed to his skillful touch, he finally sank into her, their bodies needing no guidance in their rhythm. Their pace was slow and deliberate, and Anders worshipped her with each thrust, reveling in her uninhibited response. They found their completion together, but he did not leave her, choosing instead to cherish their final moments for as long as he could.

In the peace and openness of the safety in her arms, he felt her steady breath, and knew he needed to go. He closed his eyes and pulled the Fade open, intending to offer her a dreamless sleep - a night of peace after their last coupling - when he felt another presence. His years as a healer told him instantly what he was feeling.

"Oh love," he whispered as what precious few remaining pieces of his world disintegrated. Quickly, he cast a mild sleep over Lorelai, and shut away the Fade. Sitting up, he swung his long legs over the side of the bed and clasped his hands behind his neck. "Oh, my love," he sobbed.

Anders rocked himself as he cried for them, for his malignant destruction of their new family; for his innocent child who would be branded a revolutionist apostate's bastard. He wept, knowing he had surrendered his ability to protect his baby from the worst cruelties the world would dispense because of his decision to declare war on the Chantry. It would never be safe from threat; it would never cease to be hunted, simply because of its father.

More than anything, he wanted to whisk them all away; he wanted to beg Lorelai to forgive him and to love him once more. The image of their unborn child began to form in his mind, and he wished, for the first time in his life, to be free of his magic – to just be a man.

But, as he looked back at Lorelai, her sweet face relaxed in sleep, he knew that the last thing that either she or their child needed was _him_.

He was a runaway Grey Warden, an apostate, and, in the eyes of most of Thedas, a murderer. Assuming that Lorelai would even allow him near her again, he couldn't protect them, couldn't offer them the stability they would need – he could only offer the undignified life of dodging Templars and hiding who they were.

No, what he should do is get dressed and leave, just as he had planned. He should go from here, from her, and never look back, never again add to her burdens. He had done enough.

He finally forced his body to move, and, with the weight in his heart ten times greater than when he had entered the home, he re-dressed. Again he turned to watch her, and again he was unable to resist touching her one last time.

Kissing her cheek slowly, he inhaled the scent of her hair and skin, committing it to memory. He rose and reached into his pocket, and soundlessly placed his key on the bedside table.

"Good-bye my love, my life," he whispered to her. "I love you both too much to stay," he explained and turned, leaving his family behind.

A few silent minutes later, as Anders patted their hound's head in farewell, the mage slipped out by the side servants' entrance, and was gone.

 _**Thank you, Lisa, I'm very, very, grateful for your continued willingness to beta my ramblings.** _


End file.
